Most every Labor Day has been a tease--one last holiday before the work really starts. This fall is only the second since I reached school age that Labor Day doesn't signal school, doesn't make the air feel just a touch cooler.
The first fall I took off was after earning my B.A. from Hofstra. I needed that time to realize I should go to grad school. For some people, grad school is a chore: more intense than undergrad, seemingly without point except to move your appellation a few letters up the alphabet. In my case, I had slacked off just enough as a senior to feel I had something to prove.
With that in mind, I dissected the workload as much as I could, reminding myself that every bit of effort would be worth it in the end. It was the difference between a B and an A, which, for the first time, really mattered to me. I wanted to see the actual--not estimated--limit of my abilities.
Common wisdom says, "If you've done your best, you have nothing to regret." I say until you're tested, or choose to test yourself, you don't know what your best is.
I suppose I'm testing myself this time, too. I taught composition for six years, which earned some money, but ultimately held back my own writing. When younger teachers started landing the creative writing jobs I'd wanted from the beginning, I caught on it was time for a change.
Eight years ago, grad school was the best way I could improve as a professional. Today, it's a matter of getting my name out there. Again, I will narrow my focus, try to do the little things right, all in the end to be at the top of a mountain shouting, "Drago! Drago!"
No comments:
Post a Comment